


Mycroft at Wembley with a Flask of Scotch

by Wetislandinthenorthatlantic



Series: Tumblr Prompts to celebrate 60 Followers [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: But Mostly fluffy, F/M, Mollcroft, Tumblr Prompt, fluffy and a little bit steamy!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:08:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic/pseuds/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly takes Mycroft to Wembley to the U2 concert -- because everyone should go to a rock concert at least once in their life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mysterious Ways

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thINKture](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thINKture/gifts).



> I don't any of the characters.  
> This work is purely for entertainment. 
> 
> Sorry Prince Harry -- please don't take offence. You either Bono. 
> 
> This is another Tumblr prompt!

"You want me to do what?" Mycroft was looking at Molly with true horror on his face. 

Giggles were bubbling out of her despite the effort Molly was making to keep a straight face, "I want you to come with me to Wembley to the U2 concert."

The two of them, Mycroft in white-tie and tails, Molly with her hair in a soft bun and figure-hugging designer dress, were in the back of Mycroft's car coming back from The Royal Opera House, "Please?"

Deep down Mycroft knew Molly didn't like opera very much. But he did so she didn't complain. Tonight had been their sixth opera so far this year. Still. Mycroft wasn't about to give in that easily. 

"But the noise. The people." Mycroft rolled his eyes and made a dismissive noise deep in his throat. 

With a very mischievous smile appearing on her face Molly reached across the seat and entwined her fingers with Mycroft's. Ever so gently and slowly -- just where the starchy collar had been irritating him all night she began kissing Mycroft's neck moving upwards agonizingly slowly. "Pretty please?" Molly said softly in his ear. 

Mycroft closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. His young girlfriend was nibbling on his ear and begging. This was totally against all acceptable forms of negotiation. Despite his years--no, decades--of successful manipulating in the international political arena Mycroft had no skills that could stand up to this. 

"At least I have heard of U2. I think I even had a meeting with Bono last year in Davos. I'm sure we can spend the concert back stage in the artist's lounge," came the gasped response. 

With a smirk on her face and a twinkle in her eye Molly simply shook her head no. 

"Fine," Mycroft tried again. It was surprisingly difficult to formulate multiple coherent plans when his ear was still wet from someone's soft pink tongue. "I'm sure the young royals won't mind if we join them in the Royal Box."

"Nope." Molly continued to giggle. 

"I can arrange for Prince Harry to snog you." Mycroft offered. 

Desperate times called for desperate measures. 

"No!" Molly pretended to look shocked. "No Royal Box. No royal snog to get you out of this. You and me on the floor. Near the front." 

Mycroft made a mental note to make sure his next girlfriend was not even remotely young.


	2. Zoo Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthea gets Mycroft ready to go to the concert.

Unbeknownst to Mycroft, Molly actually purchased the tickets months before and had decided to extend her invitation, if it could be called that, with only days to go before the concert. Far too short a time between asking and the concert for Mycroft to orchestrate an international incident that would require his immediate attention in some distant and obscure point on the globe.

She was either picking up his tricks or was far more clever than he gave her credit.

Either way Mycroft had resigned himself to losing this battle so he did what all true British gentlemen do in these sorts of situations -- he hoped by ignoring it, the U2 concert would just go away. 

Sadly, it hadn't. 

The following Thursday morning, six days after the ride back from the Opera, Anthea and Mycroft had finished discussing the days schedule. Mycroft had expected her to leave promptly as usual when their morning meeting ended but she hadn't -- that must mean today's The Day.

Taking a deep breath Anthea kept her eyes down on her notes. As soon as Mycroft had realized what day it was the air in the office had taken on quite a chill. "Sir, I have your items for tonight."

If someone had happened into Mycroft's office just at that moment he would have been forgiven thinking, given the look on Mycroft's face, Mycroft had just peeled a lemon and had begun eating it like an apple.

"Bono has sent through the final set list. I have loaded the tracks onto an iPod. I suggest you listen through it a few times before tonight." Anthea passed over a sheet of paper with a shuffle clipped onto it. 

Reluctantly Mycroft reached out to take the paper. His expression didn't get any better. Anthea continued.

"Here are your clothes for tonight. I took the liberty of choosing something suitable. Trousers, shirt and shoes." A large black zippered pouch, what a person would normally use in a suitcase to organise clothes, was now handed over.

"Socks?

"No socks." Anthea could see a selection of profane words swirling behind Mycroft's eyes.

Looking at the array of items laid out neatly on his desk before him Mycroft heaved a great sigh thinking tonight's prep was over.

It wasn't.

Anthea had saved the biggest bombshell for last. 

"And finally," Anthea paused to steel herself, "your Oyster card."

He was drawing the line. No. Way. Mycroft Holmes does not ride, take, whatever you do to it -- The Tube. "No. Absolutely not."

"Sir. You if you drove you would have to leave at 4:30p to get there given all the traffic. It's U2 at Wembley. There are 90,000 people making their way to the concert. The Tube is the most sensible way to get there."

Mycroft rubbed his face with his hands. He knew Anthea was correct. He wondered if he had time to call a Tube Strike.

"You do not have time to call a Tube strike."

Sometimes he hated that fact that Anthea could read his mind.

"Any other bits of wisdom?" Mycroft's words sounded like the last plea of a man resigned to taking a journey from which he was unlikely to return. 

Anthea looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yes. Whatever Molly hands you, I suggest you drink it. I have a feeling you are going to need all the help you can get tonight." 

***

Molly was just finishing up putting on her makeup when she heard Mycroft’s soft knock on the door. He had a key and would let himself in so she made no move for the door -- just called out, "I'm just finishing up. Won't be a minute."

Walking into her living room she found Mycroft standing there looking very self-conscious. A soft "Wow" escaped her lips before she could stop it. 

"Don't say a word." Mycroft snapped. "Anthea said my usual attire wouldn't be suitable." 

Mycroft was wearing a navy blue button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up, tucked into light khaki chinos, and boat shoes with no socks. The look was competed with his tortoise shell Ray-Ban Wayfarers perched on top of his head.

Molly held up her hands to indicate that indeed she was not going to comment. But the smile on Molly's face, was enough of a signal of approval to let Mycroft relax -- a little bit. 

Standing in front of Mycroft wearing a short flouncy sundress, cropped jean jacket, small cross body purse, a half-dozen bracelets, strappy sandals and a pair of sunglasses on her head Molly could easily pass for nearly a decade younger than she was. 

She looked good-- very good. A small smile crept across Mycroft's face. 

"Anthea texted me earlier. Sounds like she has gotten you all ready. Are you excited?"

"No." 

"Mycroft!" Molly was scolding him. "Everyone needs to go to a proper stadium rock concert at least once in their life."

"I don't."

"Just be a good sport. I'll make sure you have the full rock concert experience and I will never ask you to go again."

"Promise?"

"I promise. And I'll even give you a set of ear plugs for tonight." Molly reached in her purse and pulled out two sets of industrial strength foam ear plugs.

"Do you have a full HazMat suit in there I could wear in the Tube?"

Rolling her eyes Molly took Mycroft's hand and pulled him towards the door. "Come on you. Let's get this over with."


	3. All I Want Is You

The Tube journey was marginally better than Mycroft had anticipated. Molly got a seat and no one was squished up against him. Although the knowledge that there were no safety checks on passengers -- anyone could be carrying anything -- made Mycroft hyper-alert the entire journey. 

Wembley Security had been negotiated. Concert t-shirt and beers had been purchased. Molly had surveyed the situation and had finally chosen their spot -- not too close to the front -- Molly did have a heart -- not too far back -- it was U2 after all. 

"Why did we get four beers? Who is going to drink them?" Mycroft was holding four pints of beer in a cardboard drinks holder. He would not have been any more uncomfortable if a python had been coiled up in his hands. 

"We are going to drink them! Had to get them now because once the music starts you won't want to leave to get more."

"I can't remember the last time I had a beer," Mycroft muttered to himself hoping he was only required to drink two of the pints. Anthea's advice to drink what was offered was ringing in his ears. 

Glancing over each shoulder Molly reached into her tiny purse and pulled out a flask. "I was going to save this until later but I think you need it now. It's your favourite Scotch -- from the bottle you keep hidden in the back of my kitchen cupboard. The one you think I don't know about. Careful how you drink. You don't want it confiscated." Moving closer to Mycroft, Molly slipped the flask into his front pocket. 

It was difficult for Mycroft to keep his expression neutral. Mycroft now had about £250 worth of some of the finest Scotch ever produced in a flask that looked like it was last used -- by Molly's father given the monogram -- on a camping trip in 1986. How many of the other items that Mycroft had "hidden" around Molly's flat did she know about? And just exactly who was going to confiscate anything from him? None of the Wembley Security Team Mycroft was sure of that. 

Handing the tray of beer to Molly to hold Mycroft replied, "You're right. I think I do need this -- now." Much to Molly's surprise Mycroft took one of the beers and drank three-quarters in one go. He then casually poured a glug of Scotch into the remainder of the beer which he then drank in one swallow. 

"That's the spirit!" said Molly with a grin. 

As the sun began to set on London, slowly Mycroft started to relax. Looking around he spied the ring of snipers up high and instantly recognised them as U2's security detail. He was surprised to feel happy knowing that they weren’t protecting him. In fact, this could be the safest he had ever been. 

No one would look for him in a rock concert. 

On cue the stadium lights flicked off as the first guitar riff ripped through the night, sending a roar up from the crowd. 

Mycroft was startled -- he could actually feel the energy of the crowd as 90,000 people all willed the band to appear. 

When the band stepped onstage the crowd went wild -- whipped into a frenzy, by the lights and the intro music. 

And so the show began. 

As the sound enveloped him -- even with the ear plugs -- the sensation was incredible. It felt like all of Mycroft’s nerve endings were dancing. He had never experienced anything like this before. 

With all the focus on the band and none on him, it dawned on Mycroft that no one cared he was there. No one cared who he was. He is alone in this dancing sea of humanity. And much to his surprise he found it ... well ... rather wonderful. 

The excitement of the crowd was infectious. Perhaps it the alcohol or the anonymity -- Mycroft wasn’t sure but he found his always-ever-so-proper demeanour beginning to dissolve. 

Tentatively Mycroft put his arms around Molly and much to Mycroft's glee no one took any notice, except Molly of course who was enjoying it, and so he continued. 

There was something so desperately appealing about holding Molly in this gyrating throng. He even unashamedly snogged her all the way through the last song. 

***

With grins from ear to ear Mycroft and Molly happily stumbled into the Tube. This time Mycroft sat with Molly on his lap -- tired and tipsy she snuggled into him. 

"Respect old man." Next to Mycoft was a young man holding out his hand in a fist. Searching his memory Mycroft remembered seeing President Obama do this gesture. Tentatively Mycroft made a fist and tapped it against the younger fist. "Your lady is hot," the boy replied. 

"Thanks. Is that your ... lady?" Mycroft looked past the boy to the female in a tube top, hot pants, and high heels. She was chewing gum and typing on her phone. 

"Yea."

Mycroft motioned for the boy to move in closer so Mycroft could whisper into his ear. 

"No shit. Thanks man. You and your lady have yourself good night." The boy took Mycroft's hand in both of his and shook it before the young pair got off at the next stop. 

"What was that?" asked Molly sleepily.

"He said you were hot. I returned the favour by informing him he should be extra careful tonight as his lady is ovulating." 

Both burst out laughing. 

***  
The trip home was fast and before they knew it Molly was fumbling with her key in the lock not helped by desperate groping from the British Government. 

Once inside Mycroft let out a sigh of relief believing he had made it through his ordeal. He fell back against the door – a bit drunk, moderately exhausted, and definitely aroused -- a state in which Mycroft was finding it incredibly difficult to keep it all together. 

Mycroft pushed Molly away and he slumped forward -- his hands on his knees. He was gasping, trying to catch his breath. 

He had to stop the kissing ... just for a minute ... he had to check ... to make sure all the boxes had been tucked ... no use coming this far and missing something ... 

Between gasps he reeled off the list, "I wore new clothes ...drank beer ...you snuck in hard liquor ...we sang ...we danced ...we snogged ... I even got a fist bump on the Tube. And my ears will be ringing for three days -- despite the ear plugs. ... Am I done? ... Have I had the full rock concert experience?" 

"Almost," Molly panted. 

"Please tell me anything left takes place in the bedroom." Mycroft looked pleadingly at Molly. 

"No."

"No?!" came Mycroft's anguished cry. 

"Bedroom's too far," Molly voice was a deep silky purr as she began unbuttoning Mycroft's shirt. 

"Oh thank heavens," he said breathlessly as the two crumpled to the floor. 

Only a few minutes had passed before Molly interrupted the proceedings -- just as things were about to get interesting. "Wait! We're missing something!" She reached for her purse. 

Mycroft gritted his teeth and remained poised as Molly reached into her bag and pulled out … much to his surprise … her phone and headphones. 

She quickly found her U2 playlist and put the ear buds in Mycroft's ears. Looking up at Mycroft with a mischievous grin, Molly hit play. "Now you're ready."

Mycroft let himself completely surrender to the music. Right there on the floor of Molly's flat. 

***

Anthea was getting worried. At 8:17a she received a text: [SMS: Running late-MH]  
This usually meant Mycroft was 10 minutes off schedule -- 15 on the rare occasion. 

It was now nearly two hours later and still no sign of him. Anthea breathed a sigh of relief when the alert sounded that Mycroft's car was finally in route to the office. 

A few minutes later Mycroft walked into his office very carefully. He was still wearing his Ray-Ban's even though his office was underground. 

"Sir? Are you okay?"

Mycroft held a finger up to his lips indicating Anthea should stop screaming at the top of her lungs, "Fine. Fine. I'm fine." came the soft reply. 

"How did it go last night?"

"Molly assures me I had the full rock concert experience."

Anthea watched as Mycroft gingerly lowered himself into his chair with a wince. She knew he could drink people twice his size and half his age under the table and even too much scotch wouldn't make his thighs burn like that. 

"Sir. What can I get you?

"I need a large black coffee and two tickets for tomorrow night's U2 concert."

-the end-


End file.
